Beautiful Inside
by poestheblackcat
Summary: There’s a new kid at Jen’s school. Both outcasts, they become fast friends. Very pre-film to during film. Sorta AU.
1. Diamonds in the Rough

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing with these lovely characters.

Summary: There's a new kid at Jen's school. Both outcasts, they become fast friends. Unfortunately, he has to move away. They meet years later at the Beach City Grill. Very pre-film to during film. NOT Priestly/Jen—just friends. Not exactly AU.

Part of this takes place in Jen's elementary school and my premise is that Priestly's family moved around a lot so he just happened to go to her school for a short while and their brief friendship had an impact on both their lives.

AN: The story title is also the title of songs by various artists. The chapter title refers to the album by John Prine. Just setting a theme (I'm planning for all my chapter titles to be song titles).

Disclaimer #2: This totally does not mean that I think Clea Duvall (Jen) is ugly, just that her character thought that she was, and we all know how I feel about Jensen Ackles' looks. *swoon* I just wanted to do something focusing on my two favorite characters in the film, from Jen's point of view. And ummm, I guess this is where I tell you that there are some minor _allusions_ to abuse later in the story, hence the rating.

Sorry for the terribly long introduction. I'm a little nervous about this, and I tend to ramble when I'm nervous. DamaDeHonor and VesperRegina basically told me to just man up and post it. So, here goes!

**Beautiful Inside**

_Diamonds in the Rough_

Everybody ignored her. She wasn't weird enough to bully but not normal enough to hang out with. The other kids wanted nothing to do with the shy girl whom the teachers lauded as being "so smart." Being intelligent in public school was just as bad as being dumb. Who knew.

Of course, her looks didn't help her in the least. She was short, awkward, and had dull blonde hair that hung limp and flat down to her shoulders, framing a face that was perfect for a Baptist minister's daughter—plain.

"Jennifer," her father would say, "Inner beauty is what matters. This outer shell does not matter to our Lord; He cares only about the soul inside."

Still, Jen longed for flowing golden curls and a dimpled smile like that girl laughing daintily across the playground, or the coquettishly arching eyebrows of her equally pretty friend.

She hated her looks. No one cared enough to look past the ugliness to see the real her. And if they didn't, then how could God?

Jen angrily turned the page of her battered Salinger book and hid a tear. What the other kids thought shouldn't matter, it really shouldn't. But it did. It hurt, like when her mother died and left her with a father who cared more about God's work than for caring for his timid, "ugly" daughter who looked nothing like his beautiful dead wife.

Shouting from the playground drew her attention.

"Yeah, that's right, freak. Run!"

There, running as fast as his gangly-thin legs could carry him, was the new kid.

He'd slunk into class earlier that day and handed Mrs. Barton a note. After a swift perusal and directing a false smile meant to be encouraging at her new raggedly-dressed student, she'd said. "Well, class. This is B—"

The kid was quick to interrupt her. "Priestly. I go by Priestly." His voice was soft, very soft. Barely above a whisper. Wide green eyes made larger by long, thick eyelashes under tousled dark blond hair looked at the teacher nervously, watching her response to the interruption. Biting his lip like that, he looked like a scared rabbit. A few of the students tittered.

Mrs. Barton blinked. "But sweetie, that's your last name. Your first name is lovely too."

The boy shook his head. "My name's Priestly," he repeated adamantly.

Mrs. Barton pursed her lips. "Well, all right then, Priestly. Do you want to tell the class where you're from?"

Priestly twisted the hem of his worn t-shirt and hung his head. "Not really," he mumbled. He glanced at Mrs. Barton. "I mean, we're from all over. We move a lot."

"You do? Really?" Jen could tell Mrs. Barton was a lot bored and a tiny bit miffed. Not at the new student, really, but at the fact that he'd entered her class in the middle of the school year and she'd have to deal with the hassle of adjusting his grades. "That's interesting. Well, if there's nothing else you want to share with the class, go ahead and have a seat anywhere that's free."

The boy gulped and made his way to the nearest open seat. It just happened to be next to Jen. She noticed the way he nimbly avoided tripping on the legs that shot out from under the desks he passed. He was obviously used to being bullied. She stole a furtive glance at him as he settled in his new seat.

He was pretty. There was no other word for it. The new student Priestly was ridiculously pretty. No _boy_ had the right to look that beautiful.

All this flashed through her head as she watched the skinny figure slip in a puddle on the blacktop and land in a jarring sprawl in front of his tormentors that day at lunch. The crowd gathered around the small group laughed. He scrabbled to rise but was too slow to escape the clutches of Bradley Feldman and Keith Langley, who hauled him up by his thin shirt.

"Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?" Bradley got up right in the new kid's face and leered at him.

The kid flinched. "I was trying to get away from your ugly face, that's all," he spit back. He twisted to try to get out of their grips.

"Aw, that's it," Bradley snarled, "You're going down." He drew back his fist and let the hit fly. Then another. The new student's knees buckled.

Keith had his turn and left the kid's nose bloody. The crowd laughed. Jen's insides twisted in disgust at the abuse.

The bullies lost interest soon after that and released the now-stretched-out shirt, only to shove the smaller boy, who stumbled back from the force and landed on the ground with a painful thump.

Jen winced in sympathy. The other kids snickered and left.

Jen ran over. The boy's attention was concentrated to stopping the flow of blood from his nose.

She bent down. "Are you okay?" she asked tentatively.

Vulnerable green eyes met hers. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, voice strained from a punch to the gut.

Jen reached out a hand to help him up, but retracted it when the look in the boy's eyes hardened. "I don't need your help. I don't want your charity," he growled.

Jen straightened and took a step back. "Okay." Fine. She turned around hesitantly and started walking back to her table.

"Wait." She stopped. She heard the boy pull himself to his feet with a pained exhale of air.

"Hey, wait." The boy shuffled behind her. Jen turned around. "Thank you. I-I'm sorry." He was biting his lip again and his bloodied face was twitching. Long lashes fluttered nervously.

Jen was taken aback. Well, that was an unexpected turnaround. She smiled. "Hello, 'Sorry.' I'm Jen," she said shyly.

The green eyes widened in surprise at the tease. The bashful smile lit up his blood-smeared face as he said, "Hi Jen. My name's Priestly."

Jen nodded. "I know. I'm in your class. I sit next to you."

Priestly blushed, the pinkness blossoming out over his cheeks and spreading to his ears. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't recognize you. I wasn't really paying attention to everyone in class." He squirmed in embarrassment. "Thanks for offering to help me."

"You're welcome." Jen pursed her lips. "Maybe we should go see the nurse?" she asked, examining the crimson mess on his face critically.

He wiped at it and shook his head. "No. I'm okay. Nothing she can do. The bleeding's mostly stopped."

"Do you want to sit down?" Jen gestured to the empty space next to her things on the bench.

"Okay. Thanks." Priestly sat with a grimace of pain, his thin shoulders slightly hunched over against the cold. He really wasn't dressed for January weather. The quickly drying blood splattered in a macabre Pollock-esque design down his shirt.

Jen rummaged in her bag and came up with a few tissues and a bottle of water. "Here. Use these. You look like a horror movie reject."

Priestly huffed out a breathy laugh. The thin white hand trembled slightly as he accepted the proffered items. "Thanks."

There was an awkward silence during which Jen cast another sidelong look at the boy sitting next to her, scrubbing rather uselessly at the red stains. Curiosity won over. "So what really is your first name, Priestly? Why don't you use it?"

Priestly stiffened. He glanced at her and continued wiping the blood off his face. He bit his bottom lip in a nervous gesture. "I never tell anyone. I just don't like it. It's weird. It's from the Bible. My mom was really religious," he said with a tight expression and shrugged.

_Was._ Oh. Maybe she should pretend she hadn't noticed the past tense. She knew how it felt when people pitied her own motherless state. "That's cool," she said. "My dad's a minister."

Priestly relaxed slightly and turned his head to look at her from an angle. "Yeah? My dad's anything but holy." A scowl flitted across his face.

"Oh." Jen didn't know what she could say to that.

"So won't those kids go after you if you hang out with me too much?" Priestly asked, cocking his head. "I mean, I'm poor trailer trash, loser, bad influence, yadda yadda. You seem like a nice girl."

Jen frowned. "You're not trash. And they wouldn't dare bother me. Because of my dad. I'm kind of immune from bullying because apparently, I have 'connections.' "

Priestly snorted.

Jen narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

Priestly grinned. "You're still doing the 'quotey fingers' here in Wichita?" He demonstrated.

Jen laughed and shrugged again. "Yeah, it's still in. I think." She smiled.

Throwing another glance at her companion, she asked, "So what is it?"

Priestly kept scrubbing. "What's what?"

"Your name," Jen said. "It starts with a 'B,' right? Stop trying to change the subject."

A pout flitted across Priestly's bruised face. "I'm not. I just don't tell people because they laugh at me when they hear it." His right eyebrow arched up. "It's stupid."

"Okay, okay. It's not Benjamin, is it?" she asked. "Because that's not a stupid name."

The scowl disappeared and his expression brightened. "No, it's not Benjamin." He smirked. "It's worse than that. You'll never guess it."

Jen thought. "Is it…Brian?"

Priestly smiled exultantly. "Nope."

"Bethlehem?"

He looked at her in mock disapproval. "Jen, that's a place. A minister's daughter should know better than that."

Jen blushed, then wrinkled her nose as a thought occurred to her. "Bathsheba?"

Priestly leaned back into the bench seat and laughed out loud, clutching his bruised ribs. It was nice though. "No! Ew. That's a _girl's_ name."

"_Barabbas_?" She giggled.

Priestly imitated a buzzer. "Wrong." He laughed quietly and shook his head. "I've never even heard of that one."

Jen wracked her brain for more 'B'-names from the Bible. "I give," she shrugged and shook her head. "I can't think of any more at the moment."

Priestly grinned. "Good."

Jen crossed her arms and looked at her new friend. "You sure you don't want to tell me?"

"Yes," he said with a laugh still in his voice. The boy seemed really nice once you got past all the bashfulness. He looked down at the book in Jen's hand. "Whatcha reading?"

She smiled. "_The Catcher in the Rye._ It's actually a book for kids older than us, but I just thought I'd read it." She held the novel out for Priestly to look at. "It's good. It's about adolescent alienation and loss of innocence."

He took it. "Huh." He flipped through the pages. "Hey," his eyes came up to meet hers, sparkling with life. He tapped the cover with a slender finger. "Isn't this the book that they said Chapman read before shooting John Lennon? 'Cause I think he was programmed. It was all a government conspiracy to keep Lennon from…"

**********************

AN: What do you think? A bit weird to go that far back, right? The pairings in this story are going to end up canon—I'm not going to _change_ anything, just add stuff to what we already know from the film.


	2. If You Really Want To Hear About It

AN: Chapter title opening line of _The Catcher in the Rye;_ also title of a song by The Ataris_._ Contains reference to child abuse but not graphic.

**Beautiful Inside**

_If You Really Want To Hear About It_

They got to be good friends. Jen had never been so close to anyone before. They just talked. At recess, at lunch, even during class. He walked her home after school.

Priestly introduced her to the wide world of music. She told him about her favorite books. They discussed pop culture (whether Elvis was alive, who would win in a fight—Courtney Love or Madonna), music, politics, and literature—anything but their lives away from school.

Still, there were times when she wanted to break that silent agreement forged between them. These were the days that Priestly came to school with bruises and winced when he sat down, a skinny arm curled protectively over equally thin ribs.

She'd asked once and he'd looked uncomfortable before quickly changing the subject. She suspected it had to do with his father, whom she'd never seen, and contemplated trying to get him to open up about it, but decided she didn't want to pry too much and lose his trust. She didn't want to lose her first real friend.

So she kept inviting him over to do homework and stay for dinner. That way, she could make sure he had a decent meal in him before he went home. He was all bones and angles but his thin frame soon began to fill out. Priestly was never eager to leave and seemed as grateful for her company as she was for his.

**********************

One time at lunch, Jen let slip what she thought about her own looks. Priestly's reaction surprised her more than anything.

"What?!" he said, dropping his bologna sandwich and looking at her as if she'd grown another head. "Are you crazy? You're not ugly, Jen. I think you're pretty." His ears flushed pink when he realized what that sounded like. He backtracked, "I mean, not that I _like_ you like _that,_ but I think you look just fine the way you are."

"Pretty?" Jen scoffed. "Right. Priestly, I've got to be one of the ugliest girls in our school."

Priestly pursed his lips and tilted his head to examine her from across the table. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jen. There's nothing wrong or ugly about the way you look, and besides, looks don't really matter anyway. You're smarter and nicer than anyone I know. That's what really makes a person pretty."

"You sound like my dad." Jen put her own sandwich down. "You don't get it. You're lucky because you're…" Jen faltered under Priestly's scrutiny.

"I'm what?" he prompted stiffly.

She looked up to find herself reflected twice over in the sharp green of his eyes. "Well, you're…you're pretty, okay? You're good-looking; you're not _ugly_ like I am, so you don't get how looks are important. You get treated differently." Priestly flinched.

Hanging his head, he let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah Jen, sure I get treated differently." He took a shaky breath. "Kind of sucks sometimes." When he looked at her again, she was puzzled by the strange expression he wore.

"Know what? I'm done. I'm gonna go wash my hands. Later, Jen." He stood up and threw his half-eaten sandwich in the trashcan with an angry motion, leaving Jen alone in her confusion.

She spent the rest of the school-day trying to catch his attention to ask him what was wrong with him, was he mad at her for something? He spent the day miles away in deep thought about something.

The walk home was quiet. The awkward silence hung uncomfortably between them.

"Are you coming in?" she asked timidly at her door.

Priestly stood still a moment before nodding. Jen held the door open.

"Jen?" he asked, once they were seated in Jen's living room. "Can I tell you something?" He sounded scared and lost. He scrubbed his hands nervously down the thighs of his worn and holey jeans.

"You know you can, Priestly," Jen said softly.

He ducked his head. "Yeah, I know." He sighed and kept his gaze on his hands. "I…About today. I'm sorry if you thought I was mad at you. I'm not. It's just…" He stopped and ran a hand through his tangled dark blond hair. "You know, don't you?" he asked, sounding broken. "About my dad?"

Jen looked down. "Yeah. He hurts you, doesn't he?"

Priestly sniffed. "I've never told anyone." His throat worked to swallow. "What you said, about my looks, that I'm 'pretty'…he calls me that…he calls me 'pretty.' " His voice broke and his breathing emerged raggedly from his hunched form. Jen was sure that if she looked up, she'd see tears in his eyes. She didn't. "He calls me 'pretty Bo' before he does _it_. Every time."

She didn't know what to say.

His hands clutched and pulled tightly at his hair, as if trying to forget the pain inside by making it hurt more outside. "I hate the way I look," he said hoarsely. "I hate it when he…Jen, when he…It makes me feel…"

She knew what to do, though. Jen put her arms around him and held him when he finally broke down and cried.

**********************

They never mentioned it again. There were times when they both thought about it, but nothing was ever said out loud.

The school year was coming to a close when Jen woke to the frantic ringing of the doorbell one night. She heard her father go downstairs to answer it. It was probably one of his parishioners. Jen hoped it didn't mean anyone had died or was sick.

She crept down to see what the matter was.

"_Do you know what time of the night it is, young man?" _Her father. His stern voice reverberated though the house.

"_Please, sir, I need to see Jen. It's important."_ Priestly. He sounded out of breath. _"Please."_

"_You can tell her in the morning at school."_

"_I can't wait 'til then."_ Desperate. _"We're leaving."_

Jen stepped into the hallway. "What?"

Her father turned and she could see Priestly, still rather thin in his increasingly threadbare clothes, wide-eyed, breathing heavily and disheveled as if he'd run all the way to her house.

"Jennifer, go upstairs and put some clothes on. You look indecent," her father admonished.

Jen didn't care if Priestly saw her in her nightgown. "What do you mean you're leaving?" she repeated.

He locked eyes with her. "My dad. He found a new job in Iowa. I have to go with him. We're moving."

No, he couldn't leave. He was the only friend she'd ever had who didn't try to take advantage of her brains or her naïveté. She choked. "When? When are you leaving?"

"Tonight."

God. Suddenly, the air was too thick to breathe. "No," she gasped, "no, no, you can't go with your dad. He hurts you. You could tell the police and—"

Priestly shook his head. "No, Jen. That's not how it works. I—I have to go with him. I just came to thank you for—for being so nice to me and for being my friend." He lowered his eyes. "I owe you that much. It means a lot to me."

Jen pushed past her father to gather Priestly in a tight embrace. Her father let out a scandalized "Jennifer!" They ignored him.

Priestly hugged her back, just as fiercely. She sniffed against his shoulder. "No, thank _you,_ Priestly, for being my friend, and for seeing the real me."

He sounded as teary as she did when he said, "You're a good person. I can't help seeing that." A beat. "I'll never forget you, Jen. Thank you."

**********************


	3. Something Familar

AN: Chapter title also a song featured in the film. Ya know the one.

**Beautiful Inside**

_Something Familiar_

Time passed. Jen entered high school and continued earning excellent grades. After graduation, she majored in Computer Sciences at the University of Kansas and met some people who were as "geeky" about computers as herself. She made friends, but she never really clicked with anyone the way she did with the broken boy with the face of an angel back in sixth grade.

Jen moved out to California after college. She loved being near the ocean. Growing up in Wichita, Kansas, she'd never seen it in person, so the first thing she did when she got to Santa Cruz was take a long walk on the beach. She loved how she felt so free out there in the hot sun, the fine sand squishing warmly between her toes, and the ocean crashing powerfully against the rocks. It was beautiful. Even the sunburn she got was great.

She found work at a sandwich shop after convincing the surfer-hippie owner that he needed a website for his business and that she'd be happy to make it for him…for a job. They shook on it.

Trucker was a fair boss, and when she asked him later why he'd hired her without so much as an interview, he simply said, "You fit the job." Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "But we could do interviews if you think we should. The hiring of new employees could be a democratic process."

It seemed like a sound idea. The vote, which included the shop's two regulars Mr. Julius and Lucille, her dog Bam-Bam, and a random customer, was unanimous.

**********************

One day the door opened and she turned from her computer, ready to take the customer's order as usual. She had to blink a few times before her brain caught up to what her eyes were seeing. She'd never seen anyone dressed so…she couldn't even think of a word for it. 'Punk,' could maybe work. Whatever it was, it was eye-dazzling.

The young man swaggered into the tiny shop with confidence, dressed in a neon-pink t-shirt with

IF YOU CAN READ THIS

Stop Ogling My Chest

printed on it in bold lettering, baggy black shorts with ragged hems, and biker boots. His hair was carefully sculpted into a tricolored mohawk and tattoos covered what was visible of his body. Piercings dotted his face and ears and he wore heavy black eyeliner around long-lashed eyes. Spiked black leather cuffs adorned his wrists and his slender hands ended in black-lacquered nails. In addition to all that, he sported stylized sideburns and a close-cropped beard.

And for some weird reason, she had a good feeling about him. Nothing scary or off about him at all, despite his looks. "Hi," he said. His voice was friendly yet shy, matching his smile.

Jen jumped and closed her jaw. "Oh, sorry." She cleared her throat. "Uh, what can I get you?"

The young man bit his lip in a strangely familiar gesture. The piercing in his lip bobbed. "I," he cleared his throat, "I need a job." He jerked a thumb at the door. "Saw the sign. I'm not normal." He smirked and glanced up at his hair. "Not that I was afraid you'd think any different."

The corners of Jen's lips twitched up. "Okay. The owner's out back. Let me go get him."

"No need," Trucker said, walking through the door connecting the shop to the back. "I'm here." He took in the eye-bewildering sight before him with nary a judgmental look on his face. "So I hear you need a job…"

"Priestly," the young man said. "M' name's Priestly."

Oh, so that's why he looked so familiar. How long ago had she known him? Fifteen years ago, at least. Boy, he sure had changed. There was no trace of the timid, bashful Priestly in this loud-looking man. Or maybe there was. There was no hiding that vulnerable expression in those green eyes of his if you looked close enough.

Trucker examined him with a critical eye, as if he was looking past the noise displayed on Priestly's skin and into his insides. "Alright, interview." He crossed his arms. "Uh, what do you think we should ask," he asked Jen.

"Is your hair real?" That was Mr. Julius. In response to the others' odd looks, he added, "What? I thought we agreed that the hiring process here is going to be democratic."

Everyone shrugged and waited for Priestly's answer. He grinned. "Good question, my man. Yes, it is all me. Some guys have a crisis and get a toupee, I got a mohawk." He put a hand up to touch the spiky strands and shrugged.

Jen laughed. "Okay. My turn." She had to make sure. She took a breath and plunged in. "Elvis, dead or alive?"

Priestly frowned and blinked at her. His black-rimmed eyes widened when he realized who she was and he broke out in a pleased grin. "Jen?" He let out a sharp laugh. "I can't believe it!"

She grinned back, elbows planted firmly on the couner. "Hey Priestly. So. Elvis."

He shook his head. "What? Are you nuts? Haven't we gone over this already? Alive, definitely. And," he held up a finger, "I can give you nine pieces of evidence that'll prove it."

Trucker laughed. "You're hired. Welcome to the family, Priestly."

**********************

AN: That's all I've got for now. I'll write the rest but I thought I might as well post what I have, right? I mean, this isn't a cliffie or anything, so I guess you can stand to wait a while longer.


End file.
